


Signs of Attraction

by notgottaname



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Cute, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Science Nerds, Slow Burn, Some angst, erin misuses google
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notgottaname/pseuds/notgottaname
Summary: Erin is almost certain that it is just Holtzmann being Holtzmann, and really, it isn’t that she wants Holtzmann to be attracted to her, she just would like to know if it is sincere or not. For science. Nothing else.
Or
Erin uses a google search to find out if Holtzmann is attracted to her and the results are pretty obvious.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,   
> I've already got a few chapters of this on the go so let me know if you think i should continue!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @notgottaname - or don't, it's your life do what you want ;)

 

It’s not like she _wants_ Holtzmann to be attracted to her.

The woman is a flirt, albeit an odd flirt but she does so rather effectively, with ease and with pretty much everyone. It’s just that Erin isn’t sure if that is true, because she feels like maybe Holtzmann flirts with her the most.

It’s just intrigue really, she wants to know if perhaps the engineer’s intense teasing and obscure flirting towards her is more than playful, maybe edging on genuine.

She is almost certain that it is just Holtzmann being Holtzmann, and really, it isn’t that she _wants_ Holtzmann to be attracted to her, she just would like to know if it is sincere or not. For science. Nothing else.

So Erin does what any good scientist would do, she researches. However, she isn’t entirely sure where to start so she does an (admittedly juvenile) Google search. Clicking on a website entitled ‘Signs that Someone is Attracted to You.’

She reads the first sign on the list:

#1 – Close Contact.

Erin does a metal rewind of all their previous interactions and realises that research is may prove tricky, mainly because Holtzmann is unlike any ‘normal’ person; her understanding of personal space is loose at best. Holtzmann likes to keep people on edge, inching into people’s personal bubbles to purposefully create a feeling of uncomfortableness. She especially likes doing this to people who are wound a little tight, who are easily rattled. People like Erin.

It could just be that, Erin considers, just Holtzmann’s enjoyment at throwing her off but there is something that makes Erin believe all the teasing and touching and winking might be more than just mind games. So she decides to collate all her findings over the next few days.

It happens a lot during the following week. An arm slung over her shoulder, getting in close behind Erin to whisper in her ear, plonking down on Erin’s lap during movie night. She mentally tally’s the interactions, her initial hypothesis is proven correct when Holtzmann’s hits on her more than the others but Erin factors in the variables: Holtz likes flustering her the most, she doesn’t get the same reaction from Abby or Patty. Erin spends the most amount of time with Holtzmann; they work together a surprising amount. Erin likes being around Holtzmann.

Therefore, it is natural correlation that the most flirting occurs with Erin. She is about to write off her whole scientific research when something happens at the end of the week that tips the scale from flirty to gentle, from playful to something else, something soft. It is unprecedented.

Erin is reclined on the couch in the fire house watching Netflix, some dodgy horror movie that has a half star rating and even Netflix was telling her not to bother with it. Abby is away visiting her parents, Patty is on a fist aid course, Kevin has been on his lunch break for the last four and a half hours and Holtzmann has been out since the morning. Thankfully, that meant Erin had been alone during the horrific few hours earlier in which she did a fairly accurate representation of the Aldridge Mansion ghost and ecto-projected violently into the toilet bowl.

Her stomach is still cramping and her head is pounding behind her eyes but the intense retching has finally abated. She considered going back to her apartment but the idea of riding the subway right now seemed about as appealing as diving into a portal to a ghost dimension. _Again_.

Footsteps alert Erin to the presence of someone walking up the stairs. Heavy boots and the tell-tale clinking of metal against metal can only indicate one person.

Holtzmann walks in, overalls and leather jacket in place. She is carrying a box of scrap metal that looks, to the untrained eye, virtually unusable. Erin knows, however, that the engineer will probably make something spectacularly dangerous with the junk.

When Holtzmann spots Erin on the couch, looking glib, she grins a dimpled smile and drops the box unceremoniously on the floor with a clang that exacerbates Erin’s headache.

She winces as Holtzmann saunters over to her, smile widening with every step.

‘Hey Pukey, Ab’s just called me and filled me in. Said you’ve been throwing up since I left. Ya think it’s cus you missed me?’

‘I think it’s because that Indian restaurant last night had a hygiene rating on par with this shitty movie I’m watching.’

‘I ate the food too; you don’t see me hugging the toilet.’

Erin rolls her eyes. ‘You have the constitution of an ox.’

‘Why thank ya, darlin’,’ Holtzmann dons a southern accent and curtsies with unexpected poise.

Holtzmann yanks off her industrial gloves and tucks them into her pocket, she is still wearing her fingerless leather driving gloves underneath and Erin forgets the pounding in her head to smile at the woman’s eccentricity.

Crouching in front of Erin, she uses her teeth to pull off one driving glove and presses the back of her hand to Erin’s forehead. Holtzmann is clumsy, her hand is less than clean and a little clammy but Erin is charmed by the caring gesture.

‘You aren’t hot.’ She says, and then smirks, ‘I mean, you are hot. Even though you’re weirdly pale and sweaty and there’s up-chuck on your sweater, but your temperature is okay.’

Erin huffs, ‘Like you can tell, you’ve fried all the nerve endings in your hands.’

‘How dare you, Gilbert! These are my babies.’ She wiggles her digits at Erin.

‘Well then, someone should call social services because you are mistreating your children.’

Holtzmann laughs at her, ruffles Erin’s bangs. She swats Holtzmann’s hand away but there’s a hint of a smile tugging the corner of her mouth.

‘Seriously though, you okay? You need anything?’

Erin’s heart warms at the offer, she shakes her head. She feels tired and sore and childlike. She wants to be comforted but feels too embarrassed to ask.

Holtzmann smiles and then traipses off, heaving her box of scrap metal with her. Erin tries not to feel too disappointed.

She needn’t anyway because Holtzmann returns a few minutes later, she has changed into a knitted maroon jumper and loose fitting jeans rolled up to above the ankles that are more rips than material at this point. She is also missing her shoes, goggles and glasses.

It always takes Erin aback seeing Holtzmann like this. She seems bare somehow, exposed down to her essence like the wires she strips, removed of her protective coating. Raw.

Erin’s heart leaps, rather embarrassingly, in her chest.

Saying nothing, Holtzmann walks over to her and scrambles, typically (and Erin assumes, purposefully) inelegantly, over the top of Erin to wrap around her from behind.

She startles at first, confused by the action. It isn’t what she is used to from the engineer, it isn’t a jostle or playful, it isn’t combined with a teasing remark or cheeky wink. It is an embrace, soft, meaningful. Erin gulps.

‘What are you doing?’ Erin asks

Holtzmann’s hand comes over Erin’s waist and rests on her aching stomach. She rubs small, soothing circles over her sweater.

Erin’s breathe catches, her heart flutters. This happens sometimes around the blonde, sometimes she elicits the same reaction in Erin as solving a particularly complex equation would. Erin does what she always does and ignores the feeling.

‘My mom always used to do this with me when I got sick.’

‘Were you sick a lot?’

‘Nope, constitution of an ox, remember? I just pretended to be sick a lot.’

Erin frowns, ‘Why?’

Holtzmann puffs out a laugh, it tickles the back of Erin’s neck and her stomach coils at the sensation. She assumes it is an after effect of the gagging earlier.

‘Well, I was a gay, science nerd who dressed like a freak and was socially awkward. I basically had a sign on my head reading “dunk my head in the toilet.”’

‘Holtz…’ Erin trailed off, unsure how to proceed. She tugs the hand on her belly into both of her own, plays with the calloused digits. Tries to temper down the odd surge of affection she has for the younger woman. She opts for playful, ‘…you’re still a gay, science nerd who dresses like a freak and is socially awkward.’ She tugs a finger, playfully.

Holtz laughs, another trickle up the back of her neck. ‘Yeah but I grew into it. Back then I was- it was…hard.’

Erin tucks the titbit of information away, she always feels like she has received something special when Holtzmann gifts her with a part of herself, a sliver of truth cutting through the guise of bravado. It felt precious coming from Holtzmann more than anyone else, because she is usually so closed off and hard to pin down.

‘So,’ Holtzmann continues, ‘I spent a lot of time faking illness and my mom would lay with me like this. I think she knew most of the time that I was playing hooky but she never made me go in, we just lay together like this and I’d feel better.’

‘Your mom sounds amazing.’

‘She is.’

A lump forms in Erin’s throat; she never had that unconditional support, that encouragement. Her mom thought she was strange and problematic and attention seeking. Who knows how different her life would’ve been if she had had a mom like Holtzmann’s?

Erin turns in their embrace, succumbing to the need for comfort. She takes a brief look at the engineer’s flushed face before she tucks herself into the crook of her neck. They have never done this before, she shivers a little as Holtzmann’s arms encircle her and it is nothing but tender. She is holding Erin, offering safety and protection and Erin let’s go, melts into Holtzmann, and pools around her, spilling into all the cracks and filling them up. Secure in the knowledge that Holtzmann will protect her.

‘You smell like garbage.’ Erin mumbles into her chest.

‘You smell like vomit.’ Holtzmann counters.

‘Do I?’

‘Yes, it’s disgusting.’ Belying her comment, Holtzmann tightens her hold, brings Erin in closer.

Usually, if someone told Erin mid hug, that she smelt of vomit she would be self-conscious, apologetic, she would pull away. But this is Holtzmann, regular rules do not apply. She is a contradiction to everything Erin is used to. Erin hugs her harder.

Her mind goes back to that Google list. She realises that this is a big tick against #1, because Holtzmann has never done this with any of the others, this isn’t just ‘Close Contact’ this is special, intimate contact and it feels genuine.

And maybe her heart is thumping in her chest at the realisation. And maybe her face is pressed into Holtzmann’s collar bone, squishing the smile she can’t seem to lessen. And maybe, hours later, Erin wakes up on top of a snoring Holtzmann with her right hand more than halfway up her sweater, but she puts all of that down to the delirium of illness.

It’s not like she _wants_ Holtzmann to be attracted to her.

 


	2. Considerate Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holtzmann is always weirdly considerate in some ways and ostensibly inconsiderate in others. It’s the ways she is wired and not for the first time Erin realises that this little experiment is with the only person on the planet that was a contradiction to every norm, which makes things a smidgen difficult. It also didn’t help that flirting her way through every interaction seemed to be Holtzmann’s modus operandi and that threw a spanner in the works, so to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Thanks so much for all the comments, i'm going to be making this a multi-chapter thing so yay...also follow me on tumblr (@notgottaname) so we can talk holtzbert.
> 
> Side-note:
> 
> SHE WON THE FREAKIN' EMMY!

Erin sits at the kitchen table in the firehouse; she reads the website now saved as a bookmark on her laptop, tapping her pen against her lips as she ponders the second sign on the list.

#2: Considerate Memory

It’s a little vague and she has been contemplating it for the last few days. Holtzmann is always weirdly considerate in some ways and ostensibly inconsiderate in others. It’s the ways she is wired and not for the first time Erin realises that this little experiment is with the only person on the planet that was a contradiction to every norm, which makes things a smidgen difficult. It also didn’t help that flirting her way through every interaction seemed to be Holtzmann’s modus operandi and that threw a spanner in the works, so to speak.

Erin’s contemplation is interrupted by Patty rummaging through the cupboards looking for something for lunch and not being particularly quiet about it. Erin is about to ask her to just order out when something in the cupboard behind her friend grabs her attention.

‘What’s that?’ Erin asks Patty, nodding her head to the open cupboard.

‘You should know, it’s that funky tasting shit you like so much.’

That “funky tasting shit” is actually Marmite, it is a rarity in America and she usually has to ship it from Europe or go to a specialist store to get her hands on the stuff. Erin knows she ran out weeks ago, but there on the top shelf was a full, sealed jar.

‘Yeah I know what it is, where did – who did the grocery shopping this week?’

‘Erin, baby are you seriously asking me this? Look around you, there’s nothing in this kitchen but Pringles, candy and your jar of _yeast_. Seriously, how do you put that shit in your mouth?’

‘It’s yeast _extract_ , and I like it.’ Erin answers, distractedly. ‘Holtz did the food shopping?’

‘Yeah, I have no idea why Abby thought Holtzy would be a good choice but it was either her or Kevin and, well, it’s like voting Clinton over Trump. Pick the least terrible of the two and keep your fingers crossed.’

Erin stares at the jar of Marmite on the shelf, her eyes trickle back to the laptop screen. She squints at number two, decides more data is needed before she can make an informed hypothesis.

 

* * *

 

 

It is several days later when more data is supplied, a _hell_ of a lot more data.

Erin is at her desk, slumped over her papers. She is stumped on a particular equation that she _knows_ she knows but the answer keeps eluding her, like fish in a pond she keeps glimpsing the solution but when she thinks she sees it, it evades her again.

She is so immersed in the equation that she doesn’t hear Holtzmann step into the lab until the engineer speaks.

‘Hey ghost-girl.’ Holtzmann’s voice booms and startles Erin. Her head jerks up; she watches Holtzmann waltz in, dressed in her Ghostbusters overalls and with her proton pack in her hands.

‘I told you not to call me that.’ Erin frowns; she takes in Holtzmann’s outfit and can’t remember them receiving a call. ‘Were you on a job?’

Holtzmann deposits her pack in their storage unit, turns to Erin with a secretive grin.

‘Nope, kids party. Promised I’d do it for a cute girl’s number.’

Erin’s heart stops inexplicably, she tries not to wonder why, tries to focus on the math in front of her and not the lead weight in her stomach.

‘Also,’ Holtzmann continues, ‘you didn’t say I couldn’t call you that.’

‘I told you the story. The implication was obvious.’

Holtzmann holds up her index finger like she has a very important point to make, ‘You also told me that your therapist was terrible but the only solid advice you took from years of therapy was to try and turn the negative into a positive.’

‘Yeah, which I could’ve learnt from general life without the horrible forced psychoanalysis, but…’ Erin looks up, trails off. Holtzmann is stripping off her overalls; Erin zeroes in on the blondes fingers as she nimbly unbuttons the garment. She is distracted from her problem by both an undressing and, apparently informatively considerate, Holtzmann. ‘You remember that?’

‘Duh,’ Holtzmann laughs, her jumpsuit now wide open, Erin can see a white sports bra underneath. Her brain sort of short circuits. ‘I remember everything you say.’

‘Not everything, obviously. I very specifically remember telling you that we have rooms to get changed in. With doors, and locks, and privacy.’

Holtzmann over exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. ‘Well, I remember the important stuff, like the ghost-girl story, and that you only use one specific brand of whiteboard marker and you hate closed spaces and how you don’t like certain cheese.’

‘Cheese with mould in it is just wrong!’ Holtzmann smiles at her and Erin remembers that sealed jar on the shelf and lets her affection for Holtzmann bloom at little, loosens the reigns a little, lets it swell in her chest.

‘See, I pay attention Doctor Gilbert.’

‘Okay, but the stuff from my past is still a sore subject.’

‘So maybe you could associate “ghost girl” with something positive like your shitty therapist suggested? A partially naked Holtzmann, perhaps?’ The blonde smirks at Erin, jerking her thumbs at herself.

Then she shucks off the jumpsuit completely so that she is standing in only a sports bra, SpongeBob boxers and mismatched socks. There’s a lot of skin on show, Holtzmann is very pale and very…smooth.

Erin blinks so slowly she’s sure it looks like she just took a micro nap. The image of undressed Holtzmann remains on the back of her eyelids, burnt into her memory.

‘Umm-‘

Walking up to the desk, Holtzmann stands opposite Erin and leans on her hands to peer over at Erin’s work. It gives her a view of Holtzmann’s abs tensing. Erin gulps, her mouth very dry. She needs to stay hydrated, she concludes. That’s all, lack of adequate hydration.

The engineer’s fingers land on the paper and spin it around. She studies it for a few seconds, in which Erin manages to drag her eyes up and away from taut abdominal muscles. Which, unfortunately, gives her a front row seat to the boob show. She quickly averts her gaze way up to the ceiling where it’s safe and prays her face isn’t as red as it feels.

Holtzmann yanks Erin’s pen out of her tight grip, pulls the lid off with her teeth and scribbles over Erin’s work. Then she turns the paper back, caps the pen and puts it back between Erin’s fingers.

‘There ya go, ghost-girl.’ Erin realises she doesn’t seem to mind the moniker that much anymore, damn Holtzmann and her insane psychology. ‘That’s epic mathematics, by the way. Can’t wait to put it into practise.’ She winks, Erin blushes.

She watches as Holtzmann slides out of the lab on her socked feet and she realises three things. One: Holtzmann has solved the equation, two: She can mark of number two on the “signs of attraction” list, and three: There are teeth marks on her favourite pen.

Later that day, Erin is bringing lunch to Holtzmann in her lab because she has skipped breakfast, _again_. Erin realises that Holtzmann sometimes forgets to eat or what day it is or to put pants on sometimes. But she remembered Erin’s story, and she walked forty blocks out of her way to get Erin Marmite, and she always takes the stairs with Erin even though Holtzmann is fine with confined spaces, and the list probably goes on.

The affection from earlier blooms again, the reign she had allowed seems a little less containable than before. She tightens her grip on it, won’t allow too much legroom for it to grow because that would be dangerous and so, so easy.

 


	3. Meaningful Eye Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin wonders if this will be a thing now, if they will have their best dialogue in-between words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing on cold medication is difficult and time-consuming so i apologise if this makes no sense.
> 
> Again, thanks to everyone who reads/comments its like a giant internet hug so, yeah, thank you.
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr @notgottaname and throw me some ideas!

Erin forgets about the list for the next few days. They get an influx of work, busts and paperwork aplenty. It’s only when she opens her laptop to send some long overdue emails, that the website is still opened and reminds her.

She scrolls down to inspect number three: Meaningful Eye Contact.

Again, she considers ignoring this one. Holtzmann always struggles with eye contact, has done since the moment they met. She uses techniques to hide how uncomfortable she finds it. She looks at a spot between the eyes or an eyebrow or looks over the persons shoulder. Holtzmann is very good at disguising it, she is imposing and brimming with confidence and it works well as a mask to hide behind. Erin only notices because she uses some of the same techniques herself.

It’s not like they never make eye contact, months of knowing each other means it happens increasingly more often now, but it isn’t exactly steeped in poignancy. It is usually accompanied by a wink or an eye roll or a quick aversion.

Erin doesn’t hold it against the blonde, she knows Holtzmann struggles socially, knows she has had issues since she was a kid and Erin isn’t exactly the master of social interaction either. She never got over the all-consuming terror of talking in front of a class; she developed her own coping mechanisms. Repeat, repeat, repeat. She would practise until she could recite lectures in her sleep and even then every morning before class she would lose her breakfast in the toilet.

She minimizes the webpage and decides to get some actual work done instead of fixating on this ridiculous website.

Erin is halfway through her eighth email of the thirty-nine on her list when an almighty bang resonates around the firehouse with enough force to shake the foundations slightly.

Erin races up the stairs to the lab on instinct; it is where the majority of the explosions take place.

When she reaches the top step it is to a plume of smoke. Erin pushes through, waving her hands to clear her vision. She gasps when she sees Abby slumped against the back wall, unconscious. Holtzmann, covered in ash, is frantically trying to rouse the sooty physicist. Erin can feel panic prickle up her spine when Abby doesn’t move, her glasses are broken on the floor, there’s a crack in the plasterboard behind her.

‘I’m getting the fire extinguisher!’ Patty yells from the floor below.

‘What happened?’ Erin asks Holtzmann, coughing on the acrid smoke still wafting around them.

‘I-I told her not to touch it! I told her not to!’ Holtzmann’s voice sounds unfamiliar, too high pitch and frenzied as she crouches next to the knocked out brunette, still trying unsuccessfully to rouse her.

Erin rushes over them, her heart in her throat. She kneels next to Abby, after a few seconds Abby starts to groan and move on the lab floor. Although she is covered in soot, there’s no blood or obvious signs of trauma and the terror that Erin felt initially lessens and contorts into something else.

‘What -?’ Erin looks around the lab, she notices smoke billowing from a split open mechanism on the floor across the room, it looks familiar. It’s clearly the device that has exploded and somehow Abby had gotten caught in the backlash and thrown into the wall.

‘Is that…is that the unstable containment device that I told you to destroy last week?’ Erin asks Holtzmann, she already knows the answer, she recognises the flashing buttons on the side and Holtzmann’s ‘hazardous material’ stickers all over it. She can feel anger rising inside her; Erin remembers telling Holtzmann on multiple occasions to remove the death-trap before someone got hurt. She remembers the blonde waving her off, dismissing her worry as overprotectiveness.

Her insides burn angrily as she looks at her injured friend on the floor, she’s furious at Holtzmann for never listening to her, the engineer’s nonplussed attitude to everything endearing until it’s not, funny until it’s _not_.

Abby is blinking up at them both, dazedly, but suddenly all Erin can see is red. She could have been killed by, they both could have. If anything had happened to them, Erin would be devastated and furious and…alone.

Patty storms in brandishing the fire extinguisher, ‘Where’s the fire?’ She asks, but Erin’s attention is now solely on the dusty munitions expert.

‘I was going to get rid of it,’ Holtzmann tells Erin, ‘I just had some things to do first.’

Holtzmann runs dirty fingers through her even dirtier and tousled hair, her hands are shaking. She has round circles of clean skin around her eyes where her goggles must’ve been when the explosion happened, it makes her eyes look even bluer.

‘Like what? What could’ve been more important than removing the unstable explosive device from the place we work in?’ Erin accuses, her anger grips her throat and causes her voice to rise. _They could’ve died.They could’ve died…_ Her brain keeps reminding her.

‘I-I…I-‘ Holtzmann struggles for a response. She stands up and starts slowly backing away from Erin, like her body is subconsciously retreating from conflict. Her eyes are wider than Erin has ever seen them. 

‘Erin, man, it was just an accident.’ Patty says, ‘I think we-‘

‘It’s been there a week, Holtz.’ Erin interrupts, standing up so she can step back into Holtzmann’s personal space. ‘That thing has been leaking goo and vibrating and clearly volatile for a week. I told you it wasn’t safe and now look,’ Erin points at Abby who has managed to sit up and is rubbing the back of her head, ‘Abby is hurt because of you, because _you don’t take anything seriously!_ ’

Erin regrets the words the moment they pass her lips because she is looking straight into cerulean blue and she sees nothing but devastation with every uttered syllable.

The anger she had felt sweeps away like dust in the wind with every second of eye contact, looking into Holtzmann’s rounded eyes she realises why she refrains from eye contact. Because Erin can see every emotion flitter in her irises and she is transfixed, her heart seized in a vicelike grip as Erin realises that she has produced the look in Holtzmann’s eyes that bleeds hurt.

‘Shit, Holtz…’ Erin reaches out for the younger woman but she jerks away from the touch.

‘You guys,’ Abby speaks up, ‘I’m fine, really. Holtz, it’s okay, seriously. I have soft cranial musculature; I was getting knocked out in school all the time. You told me not to touch it, it’s my fault, I didn’t listen.’

Holtzmann’s eyes don’t stray from Erin’s the whole time Abby is talking and it’s horrible, because Erin can see the tears start to pool and she feels sick at the sight. Holtzmann starts backing towards the door, her eyes still connected painfully to Erin’s and stupidly all Erin can think about is number three on that ludicrous website because she sure as shit can cross it off now. _This_ is meaningful eye contact; it just contains the wrong meaning. It means ‘ _you hurt me’_ and ‘ _I’ve been told I’m a fuck up one too many_ _times_ ’ and ‘ _I never thought it’d be you saying it._ ’

‘Holtz, please wait-‘

But the door swings shut and she is gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Erin waits for her.

Patty takes Abby to get checked out at the hospital and Erin waits.

Hours later, when Holtzmann fails to return, Erin calls her cell phone and listens to the voicemail over and over again. She tries not to panic, tries not to feel guilty that she overreacted. Tries and fails.

With every minute that ticks by she feels more and more nauseous. When Patty calls her to tell her Abby is fine and that they are both on their way to their homes, Erin decides to do the same. It is one thirty in the morning, she’s tired and the taxi ride home feels too short and too long.

The darkened figure seated on her apartment entranceway puts her on edge, her fingers wrap around the gifted Swiss army knife in her pocket. Two tentative steps later and she recognises the unruly blonde locks and familiar brogues.

Holtzmann looks up at her from her seat on the step. The dim light over the stoop paints her in a warm hue and Erin has never been so happy to see someone in her life. The blonde is in the same disarray from earlier. There’s soot all over her face, except clear around the eyes and in straight vertical lines down her cheeks. Tear tracks, Erin realises. Her heart cracks.

‘Holtz, are you okay? What are-‘

‘I’m sorry.’ Holtzmann cuts her off, she looks down at the ground over her pulled up knees. She looks so vulnerable and small and so un-Holtzmann like that it is slightly jarring.

‘What? Why are you apologising to me?’

‘Cus I didn’t get rid of the faulty unit, I hurt Abby, I upset you.’ Holtzmann speaks to her shoes; Erin looks down at the dusty crown of her head and sighs.

She sits on the floor in front of the engineer. ‘Holtz, can you look at me?’

Holtzmann shakes her head; her eyes remain glued to terra firma.

‘Okay, that’s okay. Just listen, please.’ Erin scoots forward so her legs are pressed up against Holtzmann’s. The cold floor seeps through her jeans but Holtzmann is warm against her shins. She smells strongly of smoke but also of cinnamon, it’s weirdly intoxicating. ‘You have nothing to apologise for, okay? I totally blew up at you and I am so sorry. I got angry because…because I worry about you, I want you to be safe because if you weren’t around I don’t know what I’d do. You- all of you guys - you’re my family.’

Erin tugs a little on the leg of Holtzmann’s trousers; she is still looking at the ground.

‘I know you didn’t mean to do this, I know how much you care. I see it in everything you do, Jillian.’

It’s either the use of her first name or the meaning in her words but something gets Holtzmann’s attention, she looks up and for the second time that day their eyes connect. There is something dancing in Holtzmann’s, a glint that means something that Erin can’t quite decipher but she seems to understand anyway. Erin’s heart dances, feels light in her chest and when Holtzmann smiles Erin knows that they are okay.

She can definitely check off number three now, because earlier their eye contact had meaning but this? This means something else, it means mutual understanding, it means the precipice of something that Erin can’t exactly put her finger on but it feels huge and overwhelming as much as it feels delicate and confined.

Their eyes linger for a few more seconds; there is something distinct in Holtzmann eyes now. A knowing glint, a realisation. Erin feels like she doesn’t understand, like she’s missing out on something, but before she can try and figure it out Holtzmann breaks the connection, standing up and pulling Erin with her. Erin feels a little relieved, obscurely, not ready to know what sparkle meant.

‘Abby’s okay, right?’ Holtzmann asks.

‘Yeah, she really does have the skull of a new born baby. She practically lived in the nurse’s office when we were at school. She’ll be fine.’

Holtzmann laughs, the relief in her is obvious, it makes her glow and look lighter.

‘You wanna come in?’

‘For a night cap?’ Holtzmann asks, wiggling her eyebrows ridiculously.

‘Erin rolls her eyes in response, ‘No, for a shower.’ Holtzmann looks like she is about to make another salacious comment so Erin quickly continues, ‘And a brief lecture on proper health and safety etiquette.’

‘Yay.’ Holtzmann deadpans, but follows behind Erin into her apartment block, she can see Holtzmann’s grin in the reflection of the glass door.

Later, Holtzmann has showered and changed into one of Erin’s t-shirts and flannel pyjama pants, she is settling down on the couch for the night. As Erin makes her way to her bedroom, she turns to the blonde and they smile at each other. Holtzmann’s eyes twinkle in the moonlight as they look directly into her own, like she has no qualms about doing it now, like she isn’t scared that all her secrets will pool out and Erin will see the truth. Erin wonders if this will be a thing now, if they will have their best dialogue in-between words.

Erin curls up in bed and thinks about the list of signs, she has ticked off the first three but there’s something creeping around the edges of this whole experiment that is putting her on edge. It’s a stupid website with very little credibility but these are real signs of attraction and Holtzmann is ploughing through them easily and with top marks and Erin doesn’t know what to make of it.

She decides to look at the next one tomorrow, there’s no way Holtzmann will get four out of four.

 


	4. Heart Races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘There’s been a slight…incident.’
> 
> ‘What kind of incident?'
> 
> ‘Holtz is in the hospital-’
> 
> Erin is turning the key in the ignition before Abby can even finish her sentence. She speeds down the interstate, phone pressed against her ear, safety be damned.
> 
> ‘Which hospital?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks,
> 
> This came out waaay longer than I intended.
> 
> Hope you all are still enjoying and thank you for all the comments/kudo's they mean a lot.
> 
> (@notgottaname)

When tomorrow comes, Erin and Holtzmann walk into the fire house together to some curious looks from Abby and Patty, and a completely oblivious one from Kevin.

Holtzmann makes her way straight over to Abby and there are muttered apologies and hugs. Erin pours herself a coffee, perches on a stool at the kitchen island and opens her laptop, eager to see what number four is on the website.

Opening the bookmarked webpage, she considers for the hundredth time, creating an actual spreadsheet for the list but even she knows that might be a bit too neurotic, even for her.

Erin snorts into her mug when she reads number four, ‘Heart Races’. Without walking over to Holtzmann and physically taking her pulse rate, there isn’t really a way to test this one and as wacky as the blonde is, even she might become suspicious if Erin straps a blood pressure monitor on her for no feasible reason.

It’s a little frustrating that she can’t tick off number four, mainly because out of all the signs she’s done so far, this is the only one that can’t be falsified or made-up. It is a natural, bodily function that would perhaps be the best indicator so far that Holtzmann has genuine feelings for Erin.

Interrupting her musing, patty sits opposite Erin at the island and slides over a croissant with a smirk.

‘Thank you.’ Erin takes the croissant and starts picking at the buttery pastry.

‘Holtzy stayed at yours last night?’

Erin nods, shutting the lid of her laptop. Patty had probably noticed the lack of Holtzmann’s usual attire. Erin gazes over at the engineer who is now prodding at Abby’s head and looking rather quizzical. She is wearing one of Erin’s oversized t-shirts that she usually wears for bed and a pair of her dark grey jeans, which are too long for Holtzmann and so are now rolled up to above the ankles. She will never not marvel at the blonde’s ability to pull off literally any outfit.

‘You guys okay now? Patty asks.

Erin nods again, _more than okay_ she wants to say, but that seems like a weird statement to make – even if it is true.

‘Oh, by the way, your mom called,’ Patty tells her around a bite of her own croissant, ‘she wants to know what time you’ll get there on Friday.’

Erin feels her heart drop like a cannonball in her chest. Her head falls dramatically onto her closed laptop and she begins banging her head repeatedly against it, she hopes that will knock the memory of her visit home right out of her head. She can’t believe she forgot about her dad’s birthday and that she had agreed to stay the weekend just to get her mom of her back.

‘Hey, stop that. We already had one knocked out scientist this week; we can’t afford to be down another.’

Erin groans into her laptop lid, feels Holtzmann walk by and pat her head a little patronisingly.

‘I think Erin’s broken.’ She mock-whispers to Patty, but her hand stays on the back of Erin’s head, steady, supporting.

Erin’s lips twitch in a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

The weekend in the Hamptons with her parents dragged excruciatingly, like it has done every Christmas, thanksgiving, funeral and wedding that Erin has felt obliged to attend. It’s always the same, her parents never apologise for the past, they ignore and sugar-coat and put appearances before everything, before _her_. Every time she has to come back to that house it is like she is transported back in time, back to her school days and she spends the days feeling claustrophobic, stuffed back in into all the boxes she had tried so hard to break out of at thirteen. A child ignored, it is just a space now to Erin. Home now is a three story fire house filled with science and laughter and acceptance.

The drive back to New York is lengthy and Erin relishes every second in her cramped rental car, because even though it smells like sandal-wood and Indian food  she feels like she can finally breathe again after being in the stifling presence of her repressed past.

It’s late as she nears the outskirts of the city; the beckoning lights in the distance are a beacon calling her home.

 _Unchained Melody_ starts playing, the radio is off and it takes a good ten seconds for Erin to realise it that it is coming from her phone. She curses under her breath for ever letting Abby mess with the settings.

She pulls into the side of the road to answer the call, safety first always a priority. Erin can practically see Holtzmann rolling her eyes at her. The engineer has learnt practically nothing in terms of safety since the explosion incident – she made Abby wear a hard hat for a while, that was the extent of her improved safety implementation.

Abby’s face is on her phone screen as she swipes to answer, ‘Hey.’ Erin greets.

‘Hey, how was it in suburgatory?’

Erin makes a grumbling noise of frustration down the line in response.

Abby laughs, ‘That good, huh?’

‘I’ll tell you all the awkward and uncomfortable details when I’m back.’

‘Yeah, erm, how long will that be do ya think?’

Erin frowns a little at Abby’s attempt at nonchalance.

‘Not long, thirty minutes tops. I’m going to the fire house though.’ Her apartment didn’t have parking and Erin needed to make use of the fire house’s garage before she dropped the rental off tomorrow. ‘Why?’

There’s a few seconds of silence down the phone that puts Erin on edge.

‘Well, it’s just – and I don’t want you to panic – so don’t, okay?’

‘Asking me not to panic is _making_ me panic.’ Erin gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling worry prickle at the base of her spine.

‘There’s been a slight…incident.’

‘What kind of incident?’

‘Holtz is in the hospital-’

Erin is turning the key in the ignition before Abby can even finish her sentence. She speeds down the interstate, phone pressed against her ear, safety be damned.

‘Which hospital?’

 

* * *

 

 

Navigating the hallways of the hospital, Erin tries to calm her pulse, tries not to panic, tries to remember that this is a regular occurrence for Holtzmann.

She finds Abby and Patty in the waiting area; they are still in their jumpsuits which are splattered with dried, crusty slime stains. She rushes towards them, ‘Where is she? Is she okay? Where is she?’

‘Erin, calm your crazy for a sec, please.’ Patty holds her by the shoulders, steady, firm and reassuring.

‘She’s okay,’ Abby affirms, ‘Dislocated her shoulder and broke a few ribs but that’s what happens when you get thrown from a balcony by a pissed off ghost.’

‘She was thrown from a balcony?’

‘You know Holtzmann, she’s gung-ho.’ Abby says, Erin gives her a look. ‘Well she _is_.’

‘She’s an idiot, is what she is.’ Erin can still feel her heart beating out of her chest.

‘Smartest idiot I ever met.’ Patty smirks.

 

* * *

 

 

Abby and Patty leave to wash the dried ectoplasm off and slip the nurse fifty dollars so Erin can sneak in outside of the hospital visiting hours.

Erin slips in quietly to the dim hospital room. Holtzmann is propped up on the bed, eyes closed. Her arm is in a sling, she is in a hospital gown and her hair is wild, framing her face prettily.

Erin makes her way over to the chair by the bed, the room is very quiet aside from the steady beeping of the monitor attached to the blonde and Holtzmann’s light snoring.

The chair creaks loudly as she sits and it wakes Holtzmann. Her eyes are heavy lidded but she smiles, wide and lazy, when she sees Erin. The relief that floods through Erin’s veins is visceral and unprecedented.

‘Gilbert, you came to see me?’ Her words slur and jumble together and Erin smiles shakily.

‘Wow, how doped up are you right now?’ She jokes, hopes the tremor in her voice isn’t as obvious as it feels, hopes Holtzmann can’t see how her hands are shaking as she grips the mattress an inch away from Holtzmann’s hand.

‘Psshhtt, I was worse than this at burning man last year.’

‘Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.’ Erin mumbles.

Up close, Erin can see the bruises forming and the cuts and scrapes across pale skin. She wants to reach out and touch Holtzmann; her fingers itch to press against skin, to feel that the other woman is real and okay and not about to shatter in front of her like dropped safety glass.

‘What happened?’ Erin asks, her fingers slip forward across starchy sheets.

‘The stupid ghost threw me outta the window. I mean, it looked _super_ awesome for about three seconds whilst I was flying through the air but then the ground came and my shoulder and ribs did a really terrible job at cushioning my fall.’

Erin shakes her head fondly, allows her fingertips to touch the blondes hand, lightly. She wants to lecture and chide Holtzmann for her carelessness but that route has clearly always proven fruitless. Holtzmann is Holtzmann, she is reckless and overzealous and that is never going to change.

She looks tired, Erin notes, like she is trying hard to stay awake.

‘Erin. Hey, Erin?’

‘What Holtz?’

‘This button here,’ she holds up a little clicker that was attached to the beeping machine, ‘press it.’

Erin eyes the device sceptically, ‘What’s it do?’ Erin asks, worried that in the hour or so of hospitalisation, Holtzmann has somehow manufactured a bomb of some sort out of discarded medical equipment. Erin really wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Just press it Gilbert.’

Erin takes the little rectangle and presses the button. Thankfully nothing explodes or implodes or electrocutes her. Instead, Holtzmann’s eyes glaze over and her face seems to slacken, Erin realises the button is supplying her morphine.

‘Niiiiiiice.’

‘Hey! I’m not your drug pusher, do it yourself next time.’

‘I missed you,’ Holtzmann smiles softly and dopily at Erin, ‘When you were gone. I missed you. Lots.’

‘Okay.’ Erin lets the word drag out, doubtful of the truth in the drug induced words. Her traitorous body flusters anyway.

‘How was it, being back with the ‘rents?’

‘Let’s not talk about that, you should sleep off the morphine.’

‘Rut Roh, ghost girl didn’t enjoy her trip to repressed-ville?’

Erin sighs, lets her index finger curl over Holtzmann’s pinkie. ‘I just wanted to come back here. Come home.’

‘Because you missed me too?’

Erin rolls her eyes dramatically, ‘I missed all of you guys.’

‘But me specifically, right?’

‘I mean, maybe I was a smidgen more excited to see you than the others. Do _not_ tell Abby I said that!’

‘Knew it.’ Holtzmann fist-pumps with her good arm, disconnecting their fingers. The movement is drunken and jerky and pulls on her broken ribs. Holtzmann yelps and slopes forwards in obvious pain.

Erin jerks up, helps her to lie back down gently, her hands linger in the places she hopes are undamaged. ‘You idiot, will you be careful for once in your life.’

‘Erin,’ Holtzmann reaches out, grabs Erin by the collar and tugs her forward. Her eyes are barely open now, the morphine really taking effect. ‘I need to tell you somethin’.’

Her fingers curl into Erin’s collar, the back of cool fingers tickle her clavicle.

‘Tell me later, sleep now.’ Erin whispers, because Holtzmann has pulled her very close. Erin’s hand works on autopilot, comes up and rests against Holtzmann’s jaw lightly, tangling a little in the curls fallen loose from their pins behind her ear.

Holtzmann’s eyes widen a fraction, still barely open as medically created lethargy kicks in, just then something strange happens, the machine connected to Holtzmann that was beeping steadily suddenly speeds up, the beeps sound faster and at an increasing rate. Erin’s eyes flit over to the heart-rate monitor, she notes the increased cardiac rhythm, and then she looks back to the engineer.

‘Nnnn, need to tell y’now.’

She pulls Erin forward again, enough to make their noses bop together and Erin gasps a little, unsure what is happening.

‘Later, Jillian.’ Erin breathes, the beeping cardiac monitor is going much faster now and Erin is briefly wondering if Holtzmann is having some kind of heart attack because of the speed her heart is beating.

‘Won’t be brave later.’ She mumbles, but then the medication wins the internal battle. The beeping slows back down steadily to a regular pace and the fingers gripping her collar loosen and flop back down to the bed.

Erin realises she is holding her breath, stock still a millimetre away from the sleeping woman. She steps back, perplexed at the engineer and wondering what she wanted to say that only drugs would allow. She knows what she wants Holtzmann to say, but then feels bad for hoping for something she shouldn’t want.

Erin doesn’t want Holtzmann to want her but she can’t deny the excitement she feels at the prospect of someone as fantastical as Jillian Holtzmann having feelings for someone as bland as herself. The thought stirs something within her.

She thinks about the heart rate monitor, it had clearly picked up when they were in close proximity, when Holtzmann wanted to tell her something that required bravery.

She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that it was Erin that made her heart race. It could have been a number of factors, Erin thinks about her limited knowledge of electrocardiography. It could have been medication, fear, high blood pressure, cardiomyopathy. The list goes on, but instinctively Erin knows the truth, she feels it in her bones.

That’s four out of four.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The Feet Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost immediately after Holtzmann gets discharged from the hospital Erin notices things between herself and Holtzmann start to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!
> 
> Sorry for the wait.... I have no adequate excuse bar laziness.
> 
> If you wanna discuss - @notgottaname on tumblr :)

Almost immediately after Holtzmann gets discharged from the hospital Erin notices things between herself and Holtzmann start to change.

In the days following, Holtzmann becomes distant and quiet. Erin thinks that it is because she has to wear the sling for two weeks and that means that she is limited in what she can do with her machines. However, it turns out Holtzmann is fairly skilled with just one arm, the sling barely hinders her engineering abilities. It becomes blatantly clear to Erin that Holtzmann is only acting differently towards _her_.

Erin watches as she jokes with Patty, flings her arms around Kevin, presses a kiss on Abby’s forehead, in a very disturbing moment with Benny she grinds up against him after he delivers their take out and…and walks in the opposite direction when she sees Erin.

Erin sulks, doesn’t even bother looking at number five on the website, she is too concerned with re-evaluating the previous four, because it seems that Holtzmann is doing her very best to rectify Erin ever having crossed them off the list.

For instance, number one has become obsolete. It has been four days since the hospital, four days since Holtzmann offered any kind of physical contact. The day after Holtzmann got out of the hospital they had their weekly horror movie marathon, which mainly consists of Erin and Abby pointing out all the movie’s paranormal inaccuracies, Patty literally yelling at the idiots on the TV and Holtzmann doing her best to make them all jump. The blonde always sits next to Erin on movie night because “she scares easily, like a cornered rabbit” and by ‘sits next to’ she means ‘sprawls over the top of,’ usually tucked under Erin’s arm or across her lap.

This time however, she still sits next to Erin but leaves a noticeable distance between them that can’t be more than a few inches but to Erin it feels like a chasm. Erin can’t even put it down to Holtzmann's arm or ribs because she purposefully sits on her good side. When Holtzmann gets up to make popcorn and comes back lounging herself over Patty’s legs, Erin feels completely and unreasonably put out.

As for number two, well to be honest, Holtzmann isn’t actually failing number two. She is still being considerate towards Erin but now it is a new kind of consideration that irritates her because it is born of awkwardness and of not wanting to offend. This aggravates Erin because Holtzmann had always been comfortable enough with Erin to be herself, and herself was often a bit of an inconsiderate ass. Erin found it endearing though, strangely enough.

And okay, there’s probably no way to check number four, (she lucked out with the heart rate monitor) but Erin is certain number three has changed because Holtzmann won’t look her in the eye anymore and that hurts more than anything.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been six days and Erin decides it’s time to get answers.

Holtzmann is dismantling a proton gun; Erin recognises it as the same gun she was assembling this morning. She has been quiet more today than she ever has since they met, no music, or humming, or wisecracks. It’s incredibly unnerving.

Erin has been pretending to work on an equation for thirty eight minutes (she timed it); in actuality she is trying to build up the courage to broach the issue.

After forty-two minutes Erin cracks, she stands up, forces her feet over to the table that Holtzmann is working on. The engineer doesn’t look up even though Erin knows she can see her in her periphery.

‘Holtz?’

‘Yep?’ Holtzmann pops the ‘p’, eyes focused on the parts in front of her, her hands are erratic- more so than usual.

‘Is something wrong?’ Erin says softly, as unimposing as she can manage.  Holtzmann looks nervous, twitchy. She doesn’t want to poke the blonde, eccentric lion, so Erin tries for the gentle approach. Softly, softly, catchee monkey, and all that.

‘Nuh uh.’ She shakes her head, her hair -unruly as ever- flops in front of her goggles.

‘You’ve dismantled and reassembled that at least three times now.’

Holtzmann just shrugs with her good arm, still studiously ignoring looking at Erin and she starts to lose her tentative hold on her composure, because they had number three down. It was such a big deal to Erin that the socially awkward engineer trusted Erin enough to make eye contact with her and now it seemed that they were back to square one, further back than that, they were at square minus ten and Erin didn’t even know _why_.

‘What did I do?’ She whispers, knowing the blonde will hear her in the quiet lab.

She is desperate to rectify, desperate to understand and mend but Holtzmann just keeps unscrewing the contraption, her fingers oily and dirty just keep turning the screw. Erin feels her frustration take hold and she yanks the screwdriver from Holtzmann’s grip.

The action is startling enough that the younger woman finally looks up and their eyes meet properly for the first time in four days, there is a piercing second of eye contact that makes her breath catch before her gaze darts to the collar of Erin’s plaid shirt.

‘Please Holtz, just tell me what I did and I’ll fix it.’

‘You didn’t do anything. It’s me.’ She reaches for the tool in Erin’s hands but she pulls it out of reach.

‘Did you seriously just “It’s not you it’s me” me?’

Holtzmann rolls her eyes and pulls another screwdriver from her back pocket and starts tinkering again. Erin takes that one away too.

‘Hey! Give it!’

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird you are around me lately. I’ve done something to upset you, I know I have. Did I get too much slime on the proton pack again? Because that isn’t really my fault, you know they single me out-‘

‘Erin,’ Holtzmann interrupts, there is still no eye contact, instead she is looking at her left ear. ‘You didn’t do anything, I swear. It’s me; I’m doing that thing that I do- that I _shouldn’t_ do, y’know? Cus’ it always- I’m always hurt but I can’t help it, Erin I can’t help it. So…damage control.’ She nods once, tightly, like a physical punctuation.

Erin is more than a little befuddled, ‘I don’t- Holtz, I don’t understand.’

Holtzmann laughs self-deprecatingly, ‘Isn’t that exactly the problem.’

Her fingers pull on the screwdriver, Erin yanks I back again. Holtzmann sighs, shakes her head and looks at the floor. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

She’s gone before Erin can blink.

 

* * *

 

 

At her apartment that night, Erin decides to torture herself by going on the website to look at number five: ‘The Feet Don’t Lie.’

She is a little confused by the title but after some reading she determines that in body language psychology, a person’s feet will always point to whom they are attracted to, or interested in, usually subconsciously.

Erin finds it a little surprising that she hasn’t heard of this before. She can’t remember back to before Holtzmann had done a 180 on her to know if this has previously been happening but she can damn well test it now.

 Erin walks into the firehouse the next day on a mission, ready to prove Holtzmann was faking this standoffish attitude towards her through the medium of body language. Unfortunately, it turns out that the engineer moves around _a lot_. Erin spends a disproportionally large amount of time looking at the floor that morning but it is to no avail, Holtzmann is on the move too much to get a definitive answer.

It isn’t until lunch, when Abby suggests they go out to the restaurant across the street, that she gets any proof. She drops her fork four times during the meal, enough times for Patty to ask if she is hiding from somebody, and each time she dips under the table to pick up her utensil, Holtzmann’s feet are pointed right at her. Erin even switches seat after fork drop number three and the results are the same.

Then later, back at the firehouse, Holtzmann is on the stool at the table talking to Abby. One leg is propped up on the table in a typically holtzmann position and her foot has been pointed at Erin since they sat down. She moved a few meters, eventually so did Holtzmann's foot, like Erin was north and Holtzmann’s foot was a compass needle.

It’s about as much proof as Erin is going to get. Holtzmann may be acting like she wants nothing to do with Erin but her body language seems to be saying the opposite.

When Holtzmann finishes talking with Abby and makes her way up to the lab, Erin is hot on her heels.

She waits until the engineer is at her work bench, and then blurts, ‘We need to talk.’

Erin watches Holtzmann as she scrutinizes the blueprints in her hands. ‘I’m a little busy here, Gilbert. Rain check?’

Erin panics, because she isn’t good at this, she isn’t good at talking but Holtzmann is definitely worse and getting her to open up is difficult.  She needs incentive. Erin spots something in the corner that she recognises it as the device Holtzmann is supposed to keep locked up because it could easily level a building.

Erin grabs the grenade-like contraption and thrusts it up in the air above her head. The action gets Holtzmann’s attention at least, though she looks more bemused than worried.

‘Tell me what’s going on Holtz or I swear I will drop this.’ She won’t, good God she isn’t crazy but nobody could say she isn’t driven.

Holtzmann raises her eyebrows; they peek over the rim of her glasses.  ‘I don’t think you realise Erin, I would rather be blown up than have this conversation sooooo, _that_ isn’t really working as a threat.’

‘Damn it.’ Erin mumbles, puts the device – very carefully- back in the locked cabinet that they use to keep devices away from Kevin. Decides a little more incentive than imminent death might be hard to come by. Then an idea strikes, Erin picks up some pliers from the tool table strides with determination over to their storage unit, yanks out a proton pack and drops it heavily onto the floor.

‘Erm, what you doing there, clumsy?’

Erin ignores her, drops to her knees and places the pliers over an exposed wire on the proton pack.

‘Hmm, what’s this wire? Is this part important?’ She asks Holtzmann, feigning ignorance quite blatantly. She can feel an air of desperation around her actions but she is unable to stop, willing to do just about anything to get Holtzmann to talk to her.

As Holtzmann’s mouth opens (no doubt ready to tell her that that wire was indeed, very important) – Erin cuts the wire.

Holtzmann gasps loudly and clutches at her chest. Erin feels bad but apparently not bad enough to stop. In a feat of strength, she uses the side of the pliers to pry off part of the faraday cage, revealing many more wires and parts underneath.

‘What about this? It looks really essential to the viability of the super conductors, I probably shouldn’t-‘   _Snip_.

‘Stop! Erin, please stop you’re killing her.’

‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

Holtzmann hesitates. Erin moves the pliers over to the next wire.

‘Wait!’

‘Nope.’ Erin’s fingers clamp down on the pliers and-

‘I like you! Okay, I like you. Please stop destroying my baby.’

Erin frowns at the engineer, pliers still poised over a wire. ‘You like me?’

Holtzmann nods vigorously, still looking desperately at the proton pack.

‘Holtz, you’ve liked me since we met. You flirted with me and hit on me and…I’ve been doing some research and I think you’ve liked me for a while. That doesn’t explain why you’ve been freezing me out this last week.’

‘There’s a- could you maybe move away from the pack? I can’t concentrate when you’re playing her like a game of _Operation_.’

Erin does as she is asked and stands up, taking a step away from the slightly damaged pack.

Holtzmann takes a breath and continues, ‘There’s a difference between wanting to screw someone and having feelings for them, okay?’

Erin’s face burns at Holtzmann’s implication even though pretty much all of her investigation has pointed towards this fact. There is an eruption of something distinctly butterfly-like in her stomach.

‘I didn’t want this to happen, sexual attraction I can deal with, that happens alllll the time. But real feelings, real _want_ is hard. For me. Especially with someone who is straight.’ Holtzmann words spew out sporadically, that’s when Erin knows she is being sincere. The blonde walks over with false bravado so startlingly obvious now and drops to pick up the pack; she cradles it like a child back to the table. ‘It’s happened before and it…was a bad time. I thought- _think_ that it’s better if I just stay away. From you… for a while.’

‘Holtz…’

‘It’s okay Erin, I get it. You don’t have to “let me down gently” or anything, when you’re always just a planet in someone else’s galaxy you get used to not mattering’ She examined the pack closely, checking the damage Erin had done with gloomy eyes.

It such as startlingly sad thing to say that Erin is at a loss for what to say, even though there are thousand words on the tip of her tongue – _who hurt you? I’ll lock them in a particle accelerator_ – _I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you don’t matter_ – _I’m sorry, I’m sorry , I’m sorry_ -

Her brain is still trying to pick the most important one when the blaring sound of the ghostbusters alarm rings out around the firehouse, loud and jarring in their bubble of isolation.

Holtzmann is suiting up and descending the fire pole before Erin can even attempt to speak.

She decides to speak to her later, after the bust…only she doesn’t get a chance.

Holtzmann disappears the next day.

 


End file.
